That Feeling
by journalofakaratekid
Summary: Hey guys This is my first time writing, it's not really fanfiction, but I wanted to publish my works somewhere. Taken from real life
1. That Feeling

Dang it… I'm almost late and class is just about to start. I rush into the warm dojo, and it smells like sweat and clean mats. The smell brings comfort with it, the feeling of happiness rushing over me. I check the box for my card- it hasn't been there since I went from the kids class to the teens class... I really need to ask Sensei about that. Thinking about Sensei leaves my eyes scanning the entrance room for him. I see him, chatting leisurely as always, with a parent about the class… probably a future krav student or something. I avert my eyes quickly when he sees me and smiles slightly. _Stupid, _I think. I bow to the mat and step on. Stripe testing, here I come.

Reciting the student pledge, hands in rest position, my eyes follow Sensei as he walks around the room. _I will develop myself in a positive manner..._ He grins at the other instructors and says something- probably a joke by the way his blue eyes are dancing and his cheerful smirk widening. _I will use common sense before self-defense… _We finally finish, bowing to Sensei. He bows back and sends us into groups of four. Let the stripe testing games begin!

It's my first time in the teens' class doing stripe testing, so it's going to be hard for me to keep up with stamina. I do crunches, trying to ignore the painful searing in my abs after doing too many from earlier classes this week. Again, no stamina whatsoever. I blush when Sensei walks by and nods. He probably couldn't tell from the sweat and my red face, so thank goodness for that. I probably look like an idiot. Great…

Striking is no easier. I'm panting in minutes, I don't know how to do burpees or sprawls, and I'm clueless on 180s. Thanks for just letting me jump in! One of the instructors walks by and tells me to work on my 180. I stammer softly that I'm new to the class and don't really know the basics yet, and that I'm working on those. They pretend to listen intently, obviously thinking that I'm making up excuses for slacking. I have to take a break because of all the pain in my ab area (I don't really have abs…), but I'm back on the mat after 30 seconds.

Before I know it, it's a pause for a cause (that means we can just get water… I think my dojo's franchise finds it necessary to make everything catchy to remember, even the lesson plans) and we're on the mat learning about the lesson of the week from Sensei. I sit up straight, my legs crisscross and my back tall. I watch him intently. But I don't listen. I watch his eyes as he smiles, the smile lines on his face growing as he talks, watch his lips move as he talks. I know this is way weird, but I pay attention to these things. Not just for Sensei. For everybody. I like to notice and appreciate the smaller things in life. Sensei's humor when he talks, the way he addresses you like you're the coolest person in the world. Those blue, blue eyes… wait, did he just give us groups? Thankfully, I noticed just in time and I get up with the transfer students from the transfer school, which recently merged with my school. Since I'm new, I get to work on basic punching- woohoo! (Sarcasm noted? Good.) I go with my group and some new instructor, and work on punches.

But wait… there's more (Again, sarcasm noted?)! We do the 'fun drill' where one person has to push through two people holding body shields in order to get to a third person and start punching them. After blocking two girls… both of which weren't hard at all, I'm up for sliding through. I work my way through the first round easily, throwing punches that are halfhearted. I'm still annoyed that I never get to learn from Sensei, and instead get to learn from some other person who just started teaching here. I make it through the two girls blocking me four times, all with ease. Man, that was 'fun'!

_Wow… I actually made it through…_ I think. Sensei was telling his group things they could do to improve their techniques. While he was talking, his face found mine listening intently and gave me a warm smile, knowing that I was paying attention for when I started doing the advanced stuff. A warmth rushes through my body… but why? I can feel my eyes widening slightly and my smile growing. I try to fight it back, having a silent battle with myself, but my mouth won me over and I smile back. Finally, the class lined up and I thank whoever for breaking the awkward smiles. Wow, major embarrassing. We all get our stripes, black pieces of tape adorning our belts. I muster the courage to tell an instructor I had missed a stripe in the most awkward way possible, my mind still stuck on the gorgeous smiles Sensei had flashed at me. I drank in the memory, feeling that weird warmth again, all through my body. I don't know what it is, but it makes me feel uncomfortable. He tells me to hang back while he tells Sensei… so that's what I do.

I bow off the mat and watch quietly, leaning against the wall, as the instructor tells Sensei what I told him. He beckons me over with his finger, smiling mischievously. I bow on again and walk over tentatively. He steps close to me: too close, too close. I start to blush then calm myself and look him square in the eye, our faces about ten inches apart. WAY TOO CLOSE! My mind screams, but I hit the mute button and look. He leans in to get the tape, and I lose an inch. Nine… TOO CLOSE, TOO CLOSE! I force myself to look up. His blue eyes are crystal clear, his face pulled into an expression of mock seriousness. His high cheekbones are flushed… but I don't know why. I can see every bit of stubble on his muscular chin, his hollow cheeks. His reddish brown hair. He smells like cologne. My eyes widen completely and I watch him. Lose an inch as he takes the end of my belt to tie the tape around … lose another half… I am completely mesmerized by his face inching closer, eyes focused on the belt… No. EWW, NO. WHAT? Noticing THIS much is not a good thing. My brain is freaking out. STAY AWAY. DON'T GET ATTACHED. NO MORE ATTACHMENTS, YOU PROMISED! I can't obey. I just can't. God, he's like what, 21? NO. NOT COOL, YO. And his girlfriend's standing right there, waiting for class. NOT COOL. But I can't help but smell his cologne, look at his face, memorize every crease, every line. He looks up, and he can't help but break into a smile that sends waves of that feeling… I can't place what it is… rushing through my body. He's still too close, but now my mind is sidetracked by his perfect face inches from mine.

"Don't let it happen again, okay?" He chuckles- God, what is that feeling…- a tone of mock severity in his perfectly raspy yet honey-like voice. I can only nod and mutter "Yes, sir." I bow and give a customary high five- his smooth hand meets mine and I feel a tingle rush down my hand and spine- and walk away, trying not to freak out. My brain is, though. NO ATTACHMENTS. NONE. It hollers at me. YOU PROMISED.

And promise I did. I tried hard to feel no attachments to anybody, except maybe celebrities… Matt Smith, David Tennant, and Orlando Bloom do not count. REMEMBER, ATTACHMENTS MEAN YOU'RE A SOFTIE. I need to be tough. My goal in life is to be tough as a rock, not letting anything touch me. This is why I'm doing karate. For the physical aspect. The other side of my mind flickers back to that amazing moment as I get into the cold minivan, and my stomach feels queasy. His so very blue eyes, gorgeous stubble scattered around his chin…

No attachments, I remind myself. You're a rock. But I still can't help but fantasize that moment, reliving it, resmelling the cologne… I haven't felt pleasure in a while, I think I've forgotten what it feels like. But now I remember-that warm rush sweeping over me- that… that was pleasure.


	2. The Aftermath

That cold Wednesday night clung to me for days and days. I constantly daydream about what would have happened if he had leaned in more, if he had said something else, if he was just as flustered as I was. The rock treatment isn't working on him. But hey, every girl has her exceptions. I still swoon slightly at the thought of his perfectly straight smile, and always correct myself. I had let my heart open its walls slightly, let it unlock the gates so that it could know what I was feeling. It craved for more… but I know I have to close up before anything happens. My mouth is sealed, and I had only told one person.

Even since I was one year old, I had had a quartet- my sister, my best friend, his sister (at first only my sister's best friend, but she became as well) and myself. We're like our own family, and consider each other as brother and sisters. Our group tells each other everything. I had to spill the beans, because we were friends before my pre-rock approach for life. I explained everything, my lips still tingling from the feeling of wanting. But I know now I can't tell anyone else, that would violate the rock code.

I haven't gone to karate in three days, and the only day I could go was Monday night. I wait eagerly everyday, my heart pulling me closer. I stay cautious, reliving the moment so that I don't swoon and fall in class. I know now what I need to do in order to stay distant and cold. I need to give him the oblivious cold shoulder, so that he doesn't think I'm totally in love with him… because that would be weird, right? I organize myself in a way that pushes logic against love. Logic always wins. I'm only in love with the feeling of pleasure, the way I had received special attention, the way he was so close to me… WARNING! My brain screams. LISTEN, YOU PROMISED. NO MORE ATTACHMENTS. I can't help but agree, going reluctantly along with logic.

In a good book, the character makes a big deal of when someone's heart disagrees with their head. It sounds sappy on paper, but when you feel it, it's exactly how they describe it (slow clap for authors everywhere). The beauty of love is a chain, held by my heart, pulling my hand along. But my brain pulls at me with reins of logic, fastened around my entire body. I have no choice but to go with the real life, looking reluctantly back at love every now and then, but logic yanks my head back forward angrily.

This is how I see it, but my heart can't help but show visions of him in my head, smiling warmly or looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes, his face pulled into that of mock severity, a light dancing in his pupils, lighting up his whole gorgeous face. Reality can't fix that, and it sits in pleasure as it happens, secretly wanting the love. I'm at war with myself, and I have to let reality pull on my reins and swerve me back on track.


End file.
